


How Your Tears Seal Your Fate

by DarkPoisonousLove



Category: Winx Club
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Minor Violence, Partner Betrayal, Post-Betrayal, Revenge, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 17:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21274997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkPoisonousLove/pseuds/DarkPoisonousLove
Summary: Tears don’t keep demons away. They just draw them in. Griffin learns that when she tries to escape from the man she fell in love with. She’d never thought of him as a Prince Charming but the truth about him that her tears reveal to her leaves her speechless. Set in a canon divergence in which the Ancestral Witches captured Griffin when she tried to escape from the Coven.





	How Your Tears Seal Your Fate

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the concept of fairytales but veered a little off course, though, I’d say it still has enough magic going on! XD

It had been magical. She’d felt so safe in his arms. Every touch, every kiss had only drawn her in deeper and deeper. And the first “I love you” she’d heard from his lips had brought tears of joy to her eyes. But something had held them back from falling.

Then she’d realized it was all about magic. She’d fallen for someone who was after power and would toss her heart aside in a heartbeat if he had to choose between the two. He didn’t even draw a line at wiping away countless innocent people. Surely he wouldn’t stop to spare her heart. If her magic failed, she’d crash into the ground, her bones cracking painfully just like the tears of agony splattered against the floor when she’d realized he wouldn’t catch her. He had his hands full with the power he was stealing to destroy the world.

She’d tried to run away but her own magic was insignificant against that of his mothers. Really, she was no match for them separately. Belladonna could easily freeze her in place to be an ice decoration for their home base forever. Lysslis could trap her in an illusion she’d never find her way out of. Tharma could fry her nerves so badly that she’d never be able to feel anything again. But none of that seemed to be part of their plan. It wasn’t good enough for them. She’d betrayed them and now she had to pay.

She’d thought they’d lead her to the dungeons but they took the stairs to the upper floors instead, making her stomach drop. It meant they had something far worse in mind for her rather than just turning her into a prisoner before torturing and executing her. And she could do nothing against all three of them with Lysslis and Tharma at her sides, clutching at her arms hard enough to leave bruises, and Belladonna walking behind her, causing chills to run down her spine with her mere presence.

The dread that had filled her only exacerbated when she recognized the floor they were on. She’d been too busy overthinking her situation while they’d ascended the stairs but now it was starting to dawn on her what they’d do to her.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked, the question so embarrassing and pathetic but she needed an answer. She couldn’t wait for them to get her there. She needed to know, needed to prepare herself. Though, she wasn’t sure anything she could do in her position would make her feel more prepared. Or prepared at all for that matter.

Lysslis looked at her for a moment before leaning in, practically shoving her face into Griffin’s, and all of that while they never stopped walking. “I think you know,” she said, confirming Griffin’s suspicions without actually answering her question, making her feel even more stupid for asking. Of course that was where they were leading her. And of course she’d known. But she’d hoped… how foolish was that when she knew what kind of monsters they were? How could she have hoped that they’d just kill her without paying her back tenfold for her betrayal?

“You haven’t belonged to the Coven for a long time now,” Belladonna said behind her, the words like an icicle stabbing her in the back. “You were only here for him,” the ancient witch’s hand tangled in her hair and a few of the hairs froze under her touch, the cold stinging at Griffin’s scalp at their roots before Belladonna tore them off, not allowing the frost to spread further. “You are his burden,” she hissed in her ear and Griffin’s eyes filled with tears. They didn’t even look at her as a person. She was just a possession that was creating problems and had to be destroyed. And she wasn’t even worth their time and effort so they were pawning her off on him. He would do their dirty work for them–and with pleasure no less–like he always had.

“That’s why we’re taking you to him so that he can punish you,” Tharma cackled–to rub it in since that had become apparent with Belladonna’s words–as she dragged a nail over Griffin’s cheek. It sank into the skin but not deep enough to draw blood. It just left a scratch behind that didn’t even hurt compared to the flesh on her arm under Tharma’s palm that was struck by an electrical charge. It fried her nerves but the tears had already started falling from her eyes. It could hardly get worse.

She just lowered her head, counting on her hair to fall in the way and conceal her face. Not that that would hide her crying from them. But maybe it would hide it from him. She hoped so–foolishly–as they reached his door.

“Say hello to the one you love so much that you betrayed him,” Belladonna said, her hands on Griffin’s shoulders chilling her to the bone, as Tharma let go of her and threw the door open with her magic. The touch at her other arm disappeared as well–though, not before Lysslis’ magic clawed at her mind, pulling her emotions apart and all over the place and making them even harder to control–which allowed Belladonna to push her into the room.

She stumbled and fell to her knees, wincing when they scraped against the floor. The door closed behind her, trapping her into the space she’d come to think of as home, but she tried to focus on keeping her head low and getting a hold of her emotions which the physical pain only intensified even more. She had to choke down the urge to rub at the place Tharma had electrocuted. She couldn’t show she was hurt. Her tears and wayward emotions already made her too vulnerable. She couldn’t show her pain and fear, too.

Valtor’s legs came into view. She’d made conscious effort to avoid any and all reminders of his presence around the room, and most of all she’d tried to ignore the sight of him. She didn’t want to see him. She couldn’t see him. Not after what had happened. She couldn’t see the hurt in his eyes that was hidden just under the rage. Or worse – the lack of it. She would die. So she didn’t look up. And standing up was definitely not an option.

“You were never one to stay on your knees,” Valtor said, his voice even, controlled – her worst nightmare. If she didn’t want to move before, now she couldn’t. She was frozen in place. “Griffin,” her name sounded heavenly coming from his lips still because he knew her, he’d always seen her for who she was, “look at me,” he urged softly but she refused to do his bidding. If he wanted to make her do something he’d have to drag her there kicking and screaming. Maybe her defiance would anger him and bring forth his true feelings, not this parade of falsity. “Look at me,” he urged again as his hand grasped at her chin and he tipped her head backwards, his gaze meeting hers.

There was nothing in it to tell her what awaited her. All she knew was that it wouldn’t be good. But how horrible would he get? As much as she’d hurt him or more?

“Who are those tears for, hm?” He ran his free hand over her cheek–the one without the wound from Tharma that stung every time the salty drops fell into it–and wiped away her tears. “For you?” He took away his touch so abruptly that it would’ve made her weep if she wasn’t already. “For me?” He brought his fingers to his mouth and licked the tears off of them. “For the Company?” His grip on her chin remained just as gentle at the mention of his sworn enemies, effectively punching her in the gut. It meant he was putting her right there with them. She was as good as dead to him now.

Still, she stayed silent, eyes trained on his face no matter how much she wanted to cut her gaze from his. But she couldn’t admit he was hurting her when he wouldn’t admit she’d hurt him. Even if her tears kept flowing. At least the teardrops were all over her glasses making it harder to see through them.

“I know you always hated showing weakness, hated showing your tears,” Valtor said as he let go of her chin and took off her glasses, folding the temples and employing his magic to transport them to his desk, leaving her face bare and open. “But I think you’ve never been quite as beautiful as you are with a tear-stricken face,” he moved away the hair that fell in her face when she lowered her head again but at least he didn’t force her to look at him this time. “And I’ll make sure you’re always crying _for me._”

The words hit so hard, depriving her of her free will as if she existed just for him. And she had but he’d made her want to escape from that reality. Because he didn’t love her enough for that kind of devotion on her part. He didn’t love her enough for her to turn a blind eye on all the blood and tears he spilled from the innocent people. She would’ve been crying if she’d stayed as well but over her own slain conscience. Now at least she got to keep that.

“You wanted to betray me so now you’ll weep over my victory instead of being triumphant by my side.” He ran his hand through her hair, stroking it in a vicious mockery. He’d stroked it like that to calm her down from the terror of nearly dying at the hands of the Company of Light. But this time death would be preferable to what he had in mind. Even if she wasn’t quite sure what that was. “And if you decide you can deny me your tears, I will take them from your eyes,” the threat bounced off of the gentleness of his touch so well before his hand tangled in her hair and pulled her head back roughly, holding her firmly in place where he wanted her. A vial appeared in his other hand and he started collecting her tears in it.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice shaking and, normally, she’d hate herself but now it only increased the chance of him answering as her wariness most certainly satisfied him.

“I can’t let perfect material go to waste.”

Material? For what?

“They are charged with so much negative energy that I can use them to power countless dark spells,” Valtor said as he kept dragging the cold glass over her skin, pressing harder than necessary which only drew more tears from her thanks to the sensitivity induced by Lysslis’ spell. “I can feel over fifty-six nuances in them, at least.” That was why he’d licked them off his skin. He’d been studying them. “But who knows, maybe I’ve missed something.” He stopped his meticulous work to focus his attention on her. “Turns out I didn’t know you as well as I thought.”

Now of all times. Now he chose to be hurt. Now he decided to play the victim. When her nerves couldn’t take much more of anything, and neither could her heart. It was just cruel. And he was doing it for more power. She tried to keep that in mind and stop the tears, stop giving him exactly what he was after. She’d already given him every piece of her and it still hadn’t been enough. He deserved nothing more.

“None of that matters, though,” he said with such casual dismissal that he got a reaction out of her before she could stop herself. Still, she didn’t get to do much, for he pulled her back down to her knees by her hair, reminding her that she would be in pain no matter what she wanted. “You will give me the power to do what I want,” he said as he made sure to hold her gaze, not anywhere near impressed with her defiant glare. “I will drown the world in your tears,” he raised the vial to look at it with a most pleased expression, rewarding her with the unhappiest of endings as he let go of her hair. And really, she should’ve known.

There were stories in which tears could cure and had recreational powers. But those were ones full of light magic and love. There’d never been a fairytale for a witch. And now, thanks to her, there wouldn’t be any more happy endings. For anyone.


End file.
